Oh, how a beautiful day went so quickly down the pan yesterday. No, to be fair I did have a good day for the most part. The sun was bright and warmed my shoulders, and I found Y the birthday card to end ALL birthday cards :) It was when I went to my grandma's to give her the birthday present I'd just bought that things went so badly downhill. Did you ever have a day where all of a sudden one of your most treasured relatives did or said something unforgivable that caused you to lose all respect for them? That happened yesterday.
After 23 years on this planet, I discovered that my grandma is extremely homophobic. I was forced to sit there for 45 minutes while she spoke of 'dirty homosexuals' and how disgusting it is that they not only let them out in public but, *gasp!* - they even let them on TV. And how revolting it is that they even let transvestites on TV these days, and about how every damn person in the world - according to her - should not be allowed on the telly because they are gay.
I felt as though during the course of that one converstaion I was pushed way back into the closet by a long, sharp broomhandle. A broomhandle sculpted in the shape of my grandmother's tongue. She never used to be spiteful and I never remember her being narrow minded about groups of people in the past. I suppose it would be easy to say it's her generation, because to be fair is is about to turn 80 (although she only looks about 60) but it's still no excuse for rudeness, and besides she really never used to be like that. Or if she did hold those oppinions she kept them to herself.
Up until that point, my day hadn't been too bad, apart from a slightly nasty encounter in the town. This has happened to me about 4 times now - I'll be minding my own business when a foreign man will appear from no where, introduce himself, say he's there for a week's holiday from Spain/Italy/France/the middle of the North Sea or wherever, make a lewd comment about something I'm wearing and then act surprised when I won't accept his offer of a drink. It's like they're spending their holiday trying to gether notches on their bedposts. It completely freaks me out. It's happened at least 4 times that I can recall. The latest of these was yesterday. I just stood up and walked away at speed.
I finished my shopping and headed to my grandma's to give her the birthday present I had just bought. However, it was clear from her face that she had been expecting something much better - what, I don't know - and didn't even attempt to hide her disappointment. I'd spent a long time thinking abour what I could give her that would be fun and different and had chosen a soft toy of Doodles because she's a great fan of the Tweenies (she's watched it longer than I have) with a big binch of daffodils to go with it. After yesterday I'm thinking of kidnapping Doodles back so he can grow up in a non-prejudiced environment :/
I went in for a cup of coffee, but no sooner had I raised the cup to my lips than the inquisition began.
"Have you watched that... Ceylon programme?" she asked.
I'd never heard of it.
"No, sorry," I said.
"You know," she continued, "that one on the hairdresser's where people go in and have their hair cut."
"Oh!" I tried not to giggle, "You mean the Salon?" I shook my head. "I've never watched that."
My grandmother's face developed an expression of someone who's just been informed they have eaten a plate of worms.
"I don't like it," She began (begging the question why she appears to watch it every day since she knew all the names of the people in it) "I don;t like it because.... well, not just because they are all dirty homosexuals...."
Stop. Freeze. The world seemed to whistle past my ears at that point. Back up a minute - did I hear that correctly? My grandmother, the woman who used to tell me stories and take me for walks in the park when I was a kid, the woman who I'd looked up to all my life, had just used the phrase dirty homosexuals.
It had been a very long time since I had last felt the need to hold my tongue, keep my sexuality hidden. When I first came out I took a lot of abuse, and that was mostly from people I'd thought were friends. But somehow this felt far, far worse, and it wasn't even knowingly directed at me.
She continued.
"...Well, actually, it is because they're all homosexuals...." she rolled her eyes and looked as though she might throw up. "It's disgusting - they actually let them act that way on the TV, all airy-fairy...." She did a spiteful impression of a limp wrist, "And they're ALL homosexuals! None of them are straight. You can tell that. Even the owner is a homosexual! The women are probably lesbians too, because it rubs off on them, you know."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I just couldn't. But she continued:
"Now, don't get me wrong, what they do behind closed doors is their business - I just don't want to have to watch them myself. Especially not on the telly! You don't want to see people like that on the TV, do you?"
I didn't know what the hell to say to that. I know what I wanted to say. I wanted to say 'how about seeing them sitting on your sofa in the middle of your living room?' But of course I couldn't. I felt as though I was back to being 13 again, when a few boys in our class had started to use the word gay as a cheap insult. I felt as though I was sitting there mutely, watching them doing the same spiteful impressions that my own grandmother was doing right then. Unbelievably, that wasn't the end of her rant.
"It shouldn't be allowed," she said. Finally she decided to stop ranting about dirty homosexuals and go onto another subject - "But, as I was saying, the other thing I can't stand about it is that people go in, have their hair done and come out looking exactly the same as they did when they went in!"
At last, something I could respond to without fearing my grandmother would disown me forever.
"Well, to be fair," I began, "people don't actually go on there for a hair cut. They go on for their 5 minutes of fame. They just want to be on TV."
"But their hair is exactly the same!"
"Well, if they actually wanted to change their haircut they would probably go to their regular hairdresser's," I tried to reason, "but this is just a fly-on-the-wall thing. People only go on to be on TV."
But then she switched the subject back.
"They had that woman.... Bet Lynch.... on last week," she said. (I don't know her real name, but neither did my grandma.) She paused. "....and she's a lesbian!"
I have never, EVER heard rumours about her sexuality. never. Not once. In fact, as far as I knew she was supposed to be a bit of a maneater! (no Hall and Oates reference intended!) But apparently anyone who went on The Salon was gay in my grandma's eyes. She managed to make 'Lesbian' sound like another word for 'pond scum'. I think by this point I'd shrunk to half my size and disappeared down the back of the couch somewhere.
"Really?" I sighed weakly. There seemed no point entering the conversation.
"Yes," she insisted, "but apparently she's living with a young man!"
I wanted to say, "So? I'm a lesbian and I'm engaged to a young man!" But I couldn't speak. I just couldn't say a word. She went on to rant about how she'd ended up with exactly the same haircut she'd gone in with, and then turned her attention back to all those awful homosexuals, and a transvestite that she'd seen the week before. Again, she thought this should be banned from the telly. And this stretched out for a full 45 minutes until I decided that I would be better off banning myself from visiting her again any time soon before I said something I regretted.
Do you know how angry I was? If she'd not been my grandmother I may have considered giving her a slap - and I have *never* slapped a person in my life.
She then began to make plate-of-worm faces at my tattoo as well so I scarpered before the anti-tattoo vibes could make me feel even worse than I already did. I couldn't get out of there quickly enough.
In other news, I only have a few more dreams to put up on my new dream diary and then I'll be all up to date. I still need to put a permanent link up here though. I always forget the obvious :)
Anyway, this particular dirty homosexual is off to email her straight, male fiance. What on earth would my grandmother make of that??
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